Acceptance (The Chicago Defiance MC Series Book 5)

by K E Osborn

  K E Osborn

  Acceptance

  The Chicago Defiance MC Series Book 5

  K E Osborn

  Copyright 2019 K E Osborn

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.

  ISBN: 978-0648112396

  Book design by Swish Design & Editing

  Editing by Swish Design & Editing

  Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  Cover design by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover By Design

  Cover Image Copyright 2019

  All rights reserved

  Try to forget.

  It’s easier said than done.

  My past—violently haunts my dreams.

  My present—belongs to an MC. My brothers, my support, my family, my life.

  But what if you left someone behind?

  You failed them.

  And set in motion a series of events no one could have predicted.

  But in deserting him, you found her.

  A constant. A guiding light. A connection that can’t possibly not be right.

  Or is it?

  This story isn’t just two souls finding their connection—it’s lust, treachery, misery, and brutality.

  Vengeance—will thrill you.

  But will I be able to gain my acceptance?

  To those of you who have haunted pasts.

  Whether by demons, by misadventure, or dull existence.

  Just know there can be change.

  But you have to help aid that change.

  The light will come.

  Surround yourself with positive people.

  Do, be, strive for greatness, and you too will grow and laugh, but more importantly—live!

  First and foremost, I would like to thank my mother, Kaylene Osborn, for her work as my editor. You have worked with me to make Acceptance the best it can be. Thank you for working with me not only as my editor but as my mother. I couldn’t do this without you.

  To Cindy/Thia – Thank you for everything! I’m so happy to have you in my life, not only helping me with BETA reading but also as my friend. I really appreciate you. Can’t wait to hang out in your side of the world.

  To Diana and Kim B – Thank you so much for everything you do. This series wouldn’t be the same without you both. You’re both amazing.

  To Carol – You’re the best. I’m sure you’re sick of my writing about you in my books by now, so I’ll keep this one short and simple. Thank you. Couldn’t do this without you.

  To Meleaha – my newbie beta, thank you for coming on board with me. Your input and ideas have been outstanding. Your help and guidance has been hugely appreciated, and I’m so grateful to have added you my wonderful team.

  To all of my awesome beta readers – Thank you for once again putting your thoughts into this book. I appreciate all of your energy and ideas, and together we make a great team. Without you beautiful ladies, this book wouldn’t be at its best potential. So thank you, every single one of you.

  To Nicki – Thank you so much for always being there without fail when my books come rushing to you last minute. You are a heaven sent angel, I swear. Thank you for all the work you do on my Defiance boys. I’m so lucky to have you on my team.

  To Jane – The world is a better place with you in it. It’s as simple as that.

  To Kellie – I can’t imagine my covers being designed by anyone other than you. We work so well together, and you just get it. Everyone is loving the look of this series, and that’s mainly on you. This baby is yours, and I give you all the credit. Thank you for making my covers shine. They are simply stunning.

  To my beautiful, playful, and utterly adorable pup, Bella. You’re crazy, and you’re only getting more and more nuts with your age. You’ve been with me from the start, and I love that you’re taking this writing journey with me. I love you Annabella Bananarama.

  Last of all, I want to thank YOU, the reader. Your continued support of my writing career is both humbling and heartwarming. I adore my readers so much, and honestly, couldn’t keep going without the love and support you all show me each day. Thank you for believing in me, and I hope I can keep you entertained for many, many years to come.

  Much love,

  K E Osborn

  For your convenience, below is a list of terms used in this book.

  Any questions, please do not hesitate to contact the author.

  Back Door—The last rider in a group ride. Customarily, the most experienced motorcycle rider.

  Cut—Vest with club colors

  Front Door—First rider in a group ride.

  The Gentlemen—An underground club who deal in the black market, trading, money laundering, contract kills, anything you want done under the table. Known associations with Tremor, Pyro’s father, now deceased.

  Hammer Down—Accelerate quickly.

  Renegade—A deceased ex-original member of the club, who betrayed the Chicago Defiance and ended up meeting his maker by the hand of Trax in Penance for attacking the club princess, Neala.

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  A Note to the Reader

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  More Books To Check Out

  Connect With Me Online

  About the Author – K E Osborn

  CHAINS

  Bitter cold.

  It surrounds me.

  The air I breathe, the frost in the atmosphere, the harsh sting of the metallic rusted chains binding my naked flesh. I pant trying to take in some much-needed oxygen, but the frigid winter air makes my lungs feel like they’re caving in on themselves. Snow gathers at my bare feet as another whack of the harsh leather smashes against my back. The thin material digging into my flesh, ripping it open with ease as I scream out in agony. The pain is too much to bear as I yank on the chains restraining
me to the wooden cross.

  My eyes glisten as I try to contain myself. The pain, the shame, it’s all becoming too much to handle. Edgar steps in front of me, he looks down, a fierce glint in his eyes, the one showing me he means business. “This is what happens when you disobey me.”

  I look over Edgar’s face, it’s clean shaven, but his jagged cheeks are covered in small scars. His gray hair is unkempt making him look scruffy. His nose, that crooked nose, is the sole reason he’s so damn ugly. His grotesque face will scar my mind for all eternity.

  His lit cigar moves toward me. Taunting me. My eyes widen as I take in the glowing red embers of the tip. Shaking my head slowly, it shifts toward me, but I keep my mouth shut. I know better than to speak as the end of his cigar moves in. The red-hot tip ignites my skin as he presses it just above my left nipple. I jolt back and scream out in agonizing pain. The smell of skin burning wafts up my nostrils as he twists it, a gleam appearing in his eyes like he’s enjoying this a little too much.

  Fucker.

  “Stop!” I yell out, regretting the word the instant it leaves my mouth.

  Edgar pulls the butt off me, leaving searing pain behind and raises his brow. He puts the cigar to his lips, taking a puff as I pant in staggered breaths trying to gather myself. With a hooded gaze, he looks at my naked tortured body up and down. “You think you have the right to tell me how this works, Ty? I’m the one in control here.” His eyes search for his henchman. “Bring me something long and thick.” Edgar glances back at me with a devilish glint in his eyes. “This is going to be fun,” he sneers.

  My body stiffens tensing in absolute terror.

  I know what’s coming.

  My wrists pull against the chains holding me to the cross, the metal tearing at my skin as fear ripples through my entire being.

  I need to get out of here.

  I need to get away.

  Away from Edgar.

  Away from these damned chains.

  With all my might, I struggle, yanking on the chains, grunting and groaning as I pull on my restraints. They tear at my flesh as Edgar stands there laughing at me. That maniacal laugh will be forever entrenched in my brain. His henchmen do nothing but chuckle at me too. I notice one of them around the corner with something in his hand, something I don’t even want to comprehend. I struggle harder, so hard I hear a pop. My shoulder screams at me in agony while I feel like I want to vomit.

  Turning my head to look at it.

  It’s wrong.

  I think it’s dislocated as I swing back to see them walking toward me.

  “Times up, Ty. Time to take your punishment! Now, be a good lad and don’t make a sound.”

  My eyes open wide as I burst upright, sweat pouring off every inch of me. My bedsheets fall from my naked chest as I heave in and out frantically trying to gather my bearings. Swiping my hand over my forehead, the sweat runs down my arm as I flick on the bedside lamp trying to calm my racing heart.

  I hate going back.

  Back to my motherfucking childhood.

  I want to forget it so badly. But the dreams—the dreams are so goddamn fucking real it takes me right back there.

  To Edgar.

  To basecamp.

  To the Sovereigns.

  The dreams are different every time—a different memory of time spent there, of the time before Bex saved me nineteen years ago.

  My heart begins to slow as I catch my breath. I grab my bottle of water on my side table taking three large gulps to moisten my dry mouth.

  This doesn’t get any easier.

  You’d think after nineteen years I’d be over this. But I’m not. The first sixteen years of my life were hell. No child should have to go through that kind of regular torture. Let’s face it, no person at any age should have to go through that bullshit.

  This particular dream took me back to when I was seven. I had nine more years of that bastard’s torture before I got out. The other boys at basecamp weren’t as lucky. My chest tightens thinking of those I left behind. Those I should have taken with me, but I didn’t have an option. It was my time to go or not at all.

  I took my out, and I’ve felt bad about it every day since.

  I glance at my wrist to see the name hidden within the mess of tattoos. I know it’s there, but to the naked eye, it just appears like swirls.

  Luc.

  The one boy who helped keep me sane in that place. The one boy who haunts my dreams the most besides Edgar. He’d be an adult now if he made it out of there. Who knows what they have him doing for them? Or what rank he would be if he’s now like them?

  The 87th Street Sovereigns.

  An underground organization going back countless years.

  Trafficking, laundering, hits, dogfighting, gambling, whores, child slavery—everything and anything you can possibly think of, the Sovereigns dabble in. Men bring their sons up in the organization. They’re trained through rigorous torture techniques to teach them they must obey the rules. They have no choice but to follow in the footsteps of their fathers and do as they have done before them. Everyone in the Sovereigns has gone through it—they must too. It’s why I was treated the way I was.

  My father was a Sovereign.

  His father.

  And so on.

  The thing is, through all this, I have no idea about my mother. As far as my father and the Sovereigns are concerned, she’s worthless, nothing more than an egg donor—an incubator.

  My father needed a son to carry on his legacy. So, I was born.

  I have no idea what happens if a daughter is born into the Sovereign world.

  I never asked.

  I honestly don’t want to know the answer either.

  Throwing back the sheets, I slide out of bed, my sweatpants hang low on my hips as I stumble to the bathroom. My finger flicks on the light as I pass, and I continue until I’m in front of the basin. Blinking my eyes a few times, I glance into the mirror and take in the sight before me. I feel hot. Extremely hot. My bearded face looks flushed, my eyes puffy, bloodshot, and glassy. I really need to talk to Bex about getting something to help me sleep.

  Bex groaned as she yanked my hand away from my bicep to assess my wound. “Goddammit, Chains, you’re always getting fucking hurt. When will you stop putting yourself in harm’s way and try to look after yourself for fucking once? You always have these damn injuries, and one day you’re going to have something so damn bad I’m not going to be able to fix you.”

  “Woman…” I chuckled, her outbursts always made my fucking day. She moved in between my legs trying to get the right angle to clean up my bullet wound.

  Foxy pulled out the first-aid kit from under the bar as Bex went about grabbing her tools and then started working on me. The way her face reacted when she was angry with me always did something to me. I couldn’t explain it. She might be my foster sister, but that’s never mattered because the closeness I felt was indescribable.

  “Don’t woman me! How many times have I told you, you goddamn brute? Now fucking keep still before I give you a sedative to knock you out.”

  I chuckled once more loving the way her fierceness didn’t shock me. It had the opposite effect by only exciting me.

  Bex was everything to me.

  I risked my life all the time.

  I felt like I wasn’t worthy of being alive. I didn’t feel like I deserved a place on this earth.

  But this woman was always there to tell me I did. I didn’t understand why. She loved me, of course, but in that moment I saw her as something else.

  “Bex…”

  “What? You’re so damn needy. We’ve just been in a gunfight, I was held captive, I’m trying to pull a bullet from your bicep and you want to talk about the—”

  Suddenly, I leaned up, my free hand wrapped into her hair. I pulled her mouth to mine planting a giant kiss on her lips. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t know I was going to do it. But in that moment, I needed to taste her. Fuck, if it wasn’t everything I thought it would be.
Our lips touched, it was like heaven fell from the fucking sky. The world shifted as everything changed in a split second for me.

  Because she didn’t pull away.

  Instead, she kissed me back albeit hesitantly.

  My tongue slipped into her mouth, and I continued to kiss her, not passionately, but enough for it not to be just a mere fucking peck on the lips. It was enough for me to know the buzz I was feeling was more than just a fleeting emotion from the heat of the moment.

  This fucking meant something.

  Bex pulled back breathless, her face contorted like she had all kinds of emotions running through her mind right then. Suddenly, her hand came up so fast I hardly had time to realize what was going o, before her open palm slapped my face so hard my head snapped to the side with a resounding thwack. Pain seared through my cheek as I winced. Glancing around, I noticed everyone standing close by watching the scene play out.

  Bex screwed up her face as she backed away panting heavily for breath. “You’re my fucking foster brother, Chains… what the hell was that?”

  But she didn’t give me time to answer before she ran out of the clubroom leaving me standing there with a semi hard-on and all my brothers gawking at me—plus, a bullet still in my bicep. Lucky Foxy was there to take care of it, although I didn’t give a fuck at the time.

  My chest was aching. I was confused as fuck.

  I was lucky my brothers said nothing to me about the kiss or following slap.

  I’d made a dick of myself, and I knew it.

  Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I shake my head from the recurring flashback that keeps filtering through my mind.

  I’d fantasized about kissing Bex for years. The urge in me so strong many times, but I always held back. That time, though, she was angry at me—angry because I could have been hurt worse. However, I knew she was yelling at me because she loved me. Others might have seen her as irate. I only heard her adoration for me through the argument. I was in pain, and she’s so damn gorgeous when she’s worked up. I’d had years of fighting with her, but my need to taste her lips was overwhelming. Kissing her wouldn’t end well—I knew that. But I couldn’t hold back anymore, and well, we all know what happened next.